Working Shoes
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: A oneshot drabble about Gwen as she prepares to leave Downton. Nominated for a Highclere Award.


**Oneshot drabble about Gwen before she leaves Downton. Title probably borrowed from a Noel Streatfield novel: there seems to be one for every other kind of shoes.**

**Working Shoes**

If she was honest, she had never thought this day would come. Since Lady Sybil had told her she had been taken on as a secretary she had been in a bit of a daze anyway. Never, ever, had the notion crossed her mind that she and Anna would one day find themselves in the back of a motor car with Lady Grantham and Lady Sybil- almost as if they were members of the family. It had been daunting and awkward at first, but Anna being there made it much easier to slip into conversation with the two ladies. Lady Sybil wasn't so much what made Gwen so nervous- after all, by now it wasn't as if they were unused to spending time together- but to find herself in the presence of Lady Grantham like this had at first driven her to an anxious silence. However, her Ladyship was a kind and gracious lady and tried her utmost to help the two maids feel at home.

They were going to Rippon. Lady Sybil had suggested that she and Gwen take a trip in the governess cart to see the dressmaker in order to find Gwen some more clothes that would be suitable for her work as a secretary. Hearing of the trip, her Ladyship had asked to accompany them, as she was thinking of sorting some new clothes out for herself- before it became too late, she had said rather grimly. It being Anna's half-day, Gwen had nothing short of begged her to accompany them and Lady Sybil deemed it fit that she should be allowed to. The situation that they found themselves in, it occurred to Gwen, was almost bizarre: but then not even Mrs Hughes, hearing that it met Lady Grantham's approval, had objected to it. Perhaps she too sensed that changes were afoot and that far more bizarre circumstances may soon present themselves.

Lady Sybil was talking spiritedly about women and the vote as they all but flew past trees and fields. Although Lady Grantham seemed to find her daughter a little eccentric, there was an unmistakeable fondness in the way she surveyed her youngest daughter. But in saying that, Gwen could not escape the impression that her Ladyship looked almost sad. Understandable, she thought, having recently lost her baby. Perhaps, she thought, her Ladyship was simply reflecting that her child was growing up fast. Gwen's own mother had cried a little when she had told her that she was going to leave Downton; but insisted that they were tears of pride at her baby girl getting herself moved up in the world. Yes, they were all growing up fast.

Finally, Branson slowed the car to a halt. Anna and Gwen instinctively waited to allow Sybil and her mother pass from the car before them. From her vantage point standing in the motor, Gwen saw Lady Sybil give the chauffeur's hand a small squeeze as he helped her descend from the vehicle. Finding themselves on the pavement, they waited for Lady Grantham to lead the way. Surprisingly, Lady Grantham opted to walk beside Anna, leaving Lady Sybil and Gwen to bring up the rear. Lady Sybil gave Gwen an encouraging smile as they began to walk.

When they reached the shop, Lady Grantham lead the way in. Obviously she was a regular customer as the proprietor, a small middle-aged woman with auburn hair, immediately left the counter and paid them her full attention. Once they had explained their purpose in being there, they split off in groups: Lady Grantham, Sybil and the shop-mistress going to inspect the party frocks, leaving Anna and Gwen to look at the more practical clothes.

"I can't believe this is really happening," she murmured to Anna beside her.

"I can," was the reply she got. Her eyes left the rack of skirts to see if her friend was joking. It seemed she wasn't. Anna continued:

"The only one who really doubted you could do it was you, silly."

Gwen smiled at that, reaching to the rack above to inspect the jackets. Between the two racks was a shelf bearing smart working shoes, some with buckles, some with straps. Anna fished the price tag out of a shoe and whistled quietly at what she found. Gwen sighed: at least when you were a housemaid you always knew what to expect your uniform to cost. They ploughed on through the rail, occasionally fishing out garments to size up against Gwen. Soon they were rejoined by the dressmaker and then by Sybil and Lady Grantham.

"My, my, Gwen," her Ladyship remarked, "That brown suit matches your eyes just perfectly."

Gwen, her complexion ever-helpful, blushed furiously at the compliment.

"Thank you, your Ladyship," she replied.

Anna, having been asked to hold Gwen's purse, took leave to examine its contents.

"You can afford it," she told her, "As well as two of the blouses. But no shoes, I'm afraid."

Gwen's heart sank a little. It was foolish, she told herself to want such extravagant an item as pair of shoes- not particularly affordable ones at that, but she had rather like the idea. The pair that were a little darker than the jacket and skirt and had little buckles had rather caught her eye. Her Ladyship was herself eyeing the shoes.

"Gwen," she told her at last, as Gwen had been extracting the money from her purse to pay for the garments, "If you'll allow me to, I will take care of the clothes. Buy yourself those shoes." 

Gwen could hardly believe her ears.

"Oh, no, your Ladyship," she replied hurriedly, "I couldn't possibly: it wouldn't be-..."

"I am aware that you do not wish to feel as if you are taking advantage," Lady Grantham interrupted her gently, holding up a hand, "But I am also aware of the excellent service you have given us since you arrived. I also realise that," she continued ruefully, glancing at her daughter, "You have managed to keep Sybil out of a lot more trouble than she might have got into, had she not had other distractions, recently."

"Mama!" Lady Sybil exclaim with mild indignation at her mother's remark, "It's not as if I actually have stopped wearing a corset or chained myself to any railings."

Lady Grantham ignored this remark.

"Besides," she continued, "I would not have offered if I thought it was inappropriate."

When at last they bundled out of the dress shop, it was starting to get dark. The sky had turned a deep but barely cloudy blue and the street lamps were beginning to glow their yellowy orange. Anna was carrying the parcels with the clothes in them but Gwen still clutched tightly to the cardboard shoebox bound up in string. The women stopped by the side of the road. Although they did not mean to they huddled a together a little as the brisk autumn wind brushed past them.

"There's Branson now," Lady Grantham pointed to their approaching motor.

"Good evening, ladies," Branson addressed them as he helped each one of them into the car. He took the packages from Anna and placed them on the front passenger seat beside his own.

Gwen sat with her box clutched tightly upon her lap. She was still uttering gabbling thanks to Lady Grantham at every opportunity she got.

"Nonsense, my dear," was the response she got as the motor started off, "After all, you'll miss your Christmas present this year and that's hardly fair as you've practically done a year's work." 

Gwen decided nod graciously and leave it at that. As she looked up she saw Lady Sybil smiling at her and gave her a grin in return.

"Go on, give us a twirl, then!"

It had not taken Gwen great persuasion to try on her new attire for the rest of the female staff to see. As they were not entertaining that night and the family themselves were opting for an early night, Mr Carson had said that he didn't mind and had advised the young men to keep clear of the servants' dining room; as they were all equally as anxious as he to avoid discussion of clothes.

"Very nice!" remarked Mrs Patmore as Gwen obliged her with the requested twirl, "I dare say you'll have suitors banging down the doors of that office before the year's out."

Daisy giggled. Mrs Hughes looked instinctively disapproving at the turn the conversation took. Evidently able to sense this, Mrs Patmore turned around.

"What's up with you?" the cook enquired.

Mrs Hughes folded her arms and released a sigh.

"Nothing, I'm just not used to being able to allow you all to plot out your suitors," she replied. This earned an appreciative laugh from around the room, "Gwen, dear," she addressed her with a hitherto unseen affection in her face, "You look lovely."

"She got some shoes too," Anna informed them, leaning he arms on the back of a chair.

"Oooh, I dare say she did!"

Gwen hesitated a moment.

"Well go and get 'em, you daft lump!" Mrs Patmore commanded her.

Taking care not to damage her new skirt, Gwen moved quickly up the stairs to retrieve the box that she had placed in pride of place at the end of the bed next to the case containing her typewriter. Upon her return the lively chatting in the dining room hushed. She placed the box on the table and lifted the lid. Necks craned and a series of appreciative murmurs issued from around the room.

"Put 'em on, then," Mrs Patmore prompted.

Gwen took the shoes from the box and placed them on the floor. Removing the shoes that she had on, she stepped tentatively into them. Apart from in the shop, she had not yet worn them. They were a little too big for her, but not uncomfortably so and if- as her mum insisted- she was still growing they would shortly fit. The design of them made her a little bit taller.

"Very nice."

The voice surprised all of them. Miss O'Brien, who had remained silent through most of the audience, startled them all by making a contribution and startled Gwen still further by paying her a compliment. She searched the ladies maid's face for signs of mockery but found none. The room had become distinctly quieter all of a sudden.

"What?" Miss O'Brien asked incredulously, "Am I not allowed to say what I think? For a change."

The women as a whole seemed to decide it was best to move on past this. Suddenly, Gwen started to cry.

"Gwen, whatever's the matter?"

She felt Anna's hand on her shoulder. A moment later she felt an arm go round her waist. T surprised her to see that the arm belonged to Mrs Hughes. It obviously showed in her face for the housekeeper said:

"I know, I must be going soft in my old age."

"What's the matter, Gwen?" Anna asked again.

"I don't know," she replied honestly, "Nothing, probably. It's just...leaving...the war...everything. Everything's happening so quickly." 

Mrs Hughes nodded.

"I know," the housekeeper replied empathetically, "But we just have to keep up with it as best we can. And I imagine you'll manage it better than most of them." 

She felt Anna give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Now," Mrs Hughes commanded firmly, "No more of that, thank you."

Gwen nodded and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Daisy handed to her. Collecting her various boxes and wrapping she headed back towards the stairs. As she went she smiled: she walked a little taller in her working shoes.

**End.**


End file.
